~Stories by DT~

No. Really. It is my birthday. And James Dean’s. And two of my friends’. It’s a stellar day to have a birthday.  Just being an Aquarius is brilliant! It is the sign of the genius and the insane.

It’s 4 minutes until 7:00a.m. I was born at 7am. Every year, my mom would sing to me at exactly 7am no matter where I was. I came to expect a call. This is the 6th year without that phone call and it doesn’t get easier.

But I’ll try not to dwell on what I’m missing, because this morning I get to celebrate my birthday with the best nephew in the entire world. Mine. We’re having birthday cupcakes. For breakfast.

Doesn’t get any better than that, Baby!

Michelle Zink, the author of the Prophecy of the Sisters, hosts an Open Mic each Thursday at her website. She provides feedback for every submission and often has other authors participating too. She encourages readers/writers to comment on at least one story. I love this idea and have participated in it over the last few weeks. I thought I’d post those snippets here. Hope you enjoy! These are from my WIP, Grim.(these are not in order)

Oh. If you haven’t read the conversation which started this whole thing, you can read it here: When Death Offers You Coffee.

1.

I stare out at the Atlantic Ocean wondering if it’s as cold as it looks. Lately, I find my job difficult to do. It’s more of a burden than a joy. I suppose that’s natural. A lot of people feel disenchanted with their jobs. I’m not that special or unique.

I wonder if the dry sand would be warm under my bare feet despite the chill in the air.  I wonder what it would feel like to stand on the edge of the world, to let the ocean race up and grab my feet, trying to pull me into its enticing embrace with its peaceful touch. The ocean looks calm and alluring. But I know it’s just an illusion. Even so, I contemplate removing my boots.

I wonder what it feels like to drown.

I’ll ask Sal when he shows up.

The children are the easiest to convince to follow me, yet they are the hardest part of the job. They are, after all, innocent. Too trusting, that’s the problem. All I have to do is promise the littlest thing and they eagerly take hold of my hand.   I hate how easy it is with them. Once in a while, I’d like a kid to put his foot down and tell me off. That would be refreshing.

I’m often a mother, father, child, friend to these people. It’s how they see me. It’s how I appear to them. Sometimes, I’m just myself. I don’t like those times when they see only me. It makes me feel weak, threatening and sad. I wonder why anyone would choose to go with me when I look like me and not someone they know. It bothers me. It frustrates me. Why can’t they see what’s about to happen?

2.

“Stay back, young man,” he says, from behind the screen door.

“I’m not here for you today, sir. You still have time. I just want to talk to you,” I say. This isn’t going as well as I hoped. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Just talk?” He asks, staring at me with his light green eyes.

I sense that he’s scared of me, but also intrigued. It’s not every day you meet Death and he only wants to chat. I suppose that’s a new thing. It’s a new thing for me. I don’t normally go around warning people of their impending doom. I believe that’s a major rule breaker.

“Yes, sir. Just talk.”

I approach the porch and take the first step up. He cautiously watches me through the screen door. I’m curious why he doesn’t slam the front door in my face.

“You can’t step foot in here if I don’t invite you, son,” Mr. Williamson says.

“Mr. Williamson, I’m Death, not a vampire. I can go anywhere I please,” I say. “But I would prefer to be invited inside.”

“Hank, who are you talking to?”

“No one, Cora,” he answers.

“I’m hardly no one, Mr. Williamson.”

“She can’t see you, right? It’s not her you want so she can’t see you.”

“She can just like you can. She won’t know I’m Death unless one of us tells her,” I explain. I’m not entirely sure of the rules myself, but I’m pretty certain people don’t know that Death walks with them unless it’s nearing their time. Most people don’t sense my presence until it’s too late and I’m already there reaching for them. Hank is different.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to tell her that Death is standing on the porch,” he scoffs. He’s warming up to me. I can be charming. I think.

3.

“Grim, what’s it like being dead?” Leigh asks.

“I’m not dead.”

“You’re not living either.”

I don’t know how to explain it to her because I don’t understand it myself. I don’t know how much I should tell her. I was alive once. What do I remember from that time? Would it matter now to know who I was? I’m not that person. He no longer exists. How I wish he did exist. But still, that wouldn’t change this situation. I wouldn’t know Leigh. She wouldn’t be stretched out in the sand with her head in my lap, my fingers mindlessly twisting in her hair listening to the sound of the waves crashing into the earth. We wouldn’t be here together. I would have been here a long time before she would have ever showed up. We wouldn’t have this.

And I’m not giving this up.

Her eyes are closed and I wonder if she’ll fall asleep in my silence.

I know we don’t have much time. I sense the change. My list is disappearing and it’s not because I’m doing a stellar job. They know what I’ve done. I’m being punished. But is not being a reaper a punishment? You’d think I’d be happy with the prospect of not being a reaper anymore, but I’m not. What happens to me if I longer collect the souls? Where do I go?

“What are you thinking?” she whispers.

“What happens to us now that you know the truth.”

“Do they know?”

“I imagine they do,” I say.

I’ve been waiting since Hank died for Sal to come.

Do you have writing habits which some might find weird? I do.

1. Sweater/sweatshirt/long sleeved t-shirt must be worn so I may play with the string on the left cuff. I have holes in said spot on various sweaters, etc. It’s always the left cuff. Never the right.
2. Headphones. I can have music playing in the background, but when it comes to writing, I must wear headphones. I think it forces me to focus on my writing. Sometimes I forget to turn the music on.
3. Coffee. Lots and lots of it. Love that stuff.
4. Fingerless gloves. Um. Yeah. I don’t understand it either.

These are my  writing quirks when I’m at home. I’m quick to adjust to a table in a coffee shop where talking to oneself or singing along to the music only I can hear is not looked upon too kindly. Or having to use someone’s computer because I’m lame and forget mine at home. It’s strangely like wearing their underwear or using their toothbrush. It’s uncomfortable and weird.

Watch out! Sometimes I like to go old school and use a notebook and pen.

Maybe not that weird, but those are a few little quirks I have when I sit down to write. What about you?

I’ve read four books in January. I should be reading around 8-9 books each month to read 100 in 12 months. I’m not sure what happened. I have a ton of books to read. I just sort of stopped reading mid-way through January.  Must make up some reading in February.

I’ve always been a huge fan of books and reading, getting my passion and love for it from my mom.

I read for pleasure. I read for research. I read to escape. I read to learn. I pick up books because of covers, authors, recommendations or the jacket summary. I can spend hours lost in a bookstore and browsing shelves. I usually have a notebook and pen with me so I can make a list of books I want to read, eventually. Unfortunately, I cannot buy every single book I want to read. Not right away.

Reading is important to me as a writer. I like knowing what’s out there in the genre I write in. But I also find it a little distracting to read stories that are similar to mine. I read them as a learning experience. What did I like about the story line? What did I dislike about it? What can I learn about the writing style, etc?

Sometimes I have to step away from YA or YA supernatural because it’s too close to home. I compare too much. I worry that my ideas are too similar. It becomes distracting. These are the moments when I venture into adult books. Or YA that’s not supernatural.

Question for you. When you’re writing, do you read stories that are similar to your story or in your genre or do you branch out and read things you wouldn’t normally dabble in?

Hi. My name is Danielle and I have a crush on Grim.  

Huh?

What do you mean he’s not real?

He talks to me all day long. He brings me coffee. He tells me stories. He’s real-ish. I guess the part I’m neglecting is the one where I admit he’s my main character in my WIP. So. What? I dig him. I like him. That’s a good thing considering all the time I’ll be spending with him over the next few months. Grim is snarky, unsure, confident and hopeful. He’s also a little confused. I mean he’s Death, right? He should be a little more creepy and little less cute. Just saying.

My critique partner and pal Carla (from The Crooked Shelf) said it best: “Okay, so we had a discussion about this right, and I said I may love death for this one very line “Mr Williamson, I’m Death, not a vampire, I can go anywhere I please” it just oozes snarky goodness and makes my heart warm for Death, even relate to him. I think this may be my favourite line, in fact it is. I am in love with this line and want to marry it and make lots of snarky good line babies. Bravo, I love this, your writing never fails to inspire me and suck me in. I love you dude!”

I hope my boyfriend won’t mind.

Grim is currently 4,577 words. Holy hot damn, Batman! I realize in novel terms, that’s nothing. But for this short story writer, I’m impressed with my self. I have a writing goal of one hour each day and I’ve stuck with it this week.

I have a timer, coffee and my headphones when I write. I turn the Internet off, remove all the phones and close the door. I get lost inside my story which is totally brilliant. I look forward to my writing time. I don’t want to be talked to or bothered during that time. It’s my time with my characters. I cherish it.

I’m fortunate to have amble time to write, but found having all day to write was actually hurting my writing. I kept putting it off. Wasting time. Setting aside an hour or two works for me. If I’m in a groove, I don’t stop when the timer goes off. I just like having that ticking in the background reminding me that whatever is happening in the land of Internet will be there in an hour or two.

So, here’s to putting my butt in the chair, a timer, coffee and remembering why I love to write.

dt

Yesterday I wrote a scene for my WIP, Grim. It’s a scene where Grim, being a reaper, takes a soul, a mom to be exact. I wrote the opening of the scene and all seemed okay. When I got to the part where Death and Emma talk, I started to cry. Imagining the conversation between a mom and Death wasn’t hard, but the emotions around it were. I had to stop writing this scene and walk away from it.

I was hesitant to go back to it. I figured it would be a scene I’d have to force myself to write some other day, but not today.

I talked the scene and some of the story elements out with Dayna, a good friend of mine. It must have worked because later in the afternoon, I sat back down and wrote the scene.

I had tears. I paused and caught my breath. But I wrote. It’s extremely raw and more of a sketchy outline than a fleshed out piece of writing. But I wrote.

It was the scene that was in my head to work on yesterday and I did it. I’m proud of myself for working through it and using my own pain to write it. I’m proud of the results.

Has a scene you wrote ever made you emotional? What are some of your favorite scenes from books that made you emotional?

~dt~

I did it! I wrote the synopsis and scene outline for my novel, which I’m currently calling Grim.  My plan was to work on it Sunday. I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I wrote. It was great. I might work best in the middle of the night when the world is asleep.

The story went in a different direction than I originally thought. I’m not sure how I feel about that at this moment. I like it, but it changes some of the ideas I had. We’ll see how it goes.

Now comes the fun part of sitting down and writing it out. Yay!

Catching the Fire of the Hunger Games

I visit the bookstore a lot. It’s my second home. I like browsing the shelves and seeing what’s out there. I often make lists of books that sound interesting so I can buy them later.

One book I kept coming back to was Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games.  The cover is simple, black with a golden bird carrying an arrow in its mouth. I’d pick the book up, read the jacket and put the book back. It sounded interesting, sure, but it didn’t seem like something I’d enjoy. I’m not a fan of Dystopian, futuristic stories of societies struggling with survival, books. Or at least that’s what I thought.

Conversations with book bloggers and friends on Twitter often went like this:

Them: Have you read The Hunger Games?

Me: No.

Them: You should. It’s awesome.

Me: Hm. I’ll check it out.

Which would lead me back to the familiar scene in the bookstore where I held the book in my hands, read the jacket and put the book back. By this time, Catching Fire, book two in the series was released.

I decided to give it go and put The Hunger Games on hold at my local library. Popular book since I was number 12 in the queue.

When I did get it, I still put off reading it for a few days while I read some other books.

I finally settled into reading the book and finished it within two days. I didn’t want to stop reading. It was an amazing story. The writing was inspiring and brilliant. The characters and their situations made my heart ache. I think I was holding my breath while I read. When I finished the book, I just sat there, clutching it to my chest. I couldn’t believe how much I loved this book. Me? A fan of a dystopian book?

The next day I purchased both The Hunger Games and Catching Fire. I read Catching Fire within two days as well. Catching Fire was just as fascinating as The Hunger Games, maybe even more. Collins is a master storyteller. I look forward to the third book in the series, which comes out this summer.

I want to shove the books into hands of strangers when I’m at the bookstore.  I recommend it to friends. If I could afford to buy twenty copies of each and give them away, I would. That’s how much I love this series.

I’m amazed by my reaction because I never thought I’d like dystopian stories, but I do. The Hunger Games has opened my mind up to a whole group of books I’d otherwise be missing out on.

Oh. And for those of you keeping score. I’m Team Peeta.

Check out The Hunger Games and Catching Fire.

To learn more about Suzanne Collins and her books visit her website.

So..um..yeah… I guess I’m taking a little break from the blogging world. I need to focus on my manuscript and I’m spending way too much time on blog related stuff. Plus, I’m gearing up to start some freelancing work so I need to cut back on the amount of time I spend on this here blog.

Still going to update, but not in a timely, structured manner for a little while at least. Need to focus on Grim!

I’m not disappearing. Just not posting all the time! Stick with me as I figure out my place in this world!

Thanks!

d